Poems

Far from Truth's narrow, upward path my feet Had strayed and over trampled grasses made Their way. Confused and lost in noise and heat Of surging throngs, I closed my eyes and prayed, And lo, I heard Love's mountain horn blow clear And sweet from heaven's citadel sublime.

This is God's day; I do not wish it To be any other day or time. This is God's place; I do not want it To be any other place.

I think there must have been a crowd that day, full of the varying moods that sway the throng: amusement, curiosity, dull doubt, with here and there the eager, questing heart that lifts itself to hear the angels' song. And, in the midst, the smiling smooth disdain of one who sought to trip the tongue so full of comfort to a world beset, racked with old problems, buffeted with pain.

You gave to Moses the law Upon Sinai mountain. You gave Isaiah his wellspring, To David his fountain; Rescued, refreshed, and transplanted A fugitive nation.

The land of Goshen stirred beneath the rod. Through Moses we were learning more each day About our loving Shepherd—Father, God.

Dear Father-Mother, God, Give me strength, humility, and power That I may behold Thy face And, beholding, Meet the challenge of the hour With God-given grace.

" Ephphatha !" Be opened, Said Jesus, looking up to heaven. And he who had been deaf, with speech impeded, Now heard the Master, and his mandate heeded.

Before him Noah beheld the rising tide, The awful lifting of those mighty waters; And yet he trembled not and at his side His steadfast wife stood with his sons and daughters. In patience, also, each four-footed beast And the two-footed owl and wren and lark.

All that I see, or hear, or feel, With good imbued, Let me acclaim with praise, and seal With gratitude. Let me be swift To know each evil shade unreal: Reverse, replace, completely lift Its weight, and heal.

Truths tenderly told, Love mastering hate, Then Christmas morn we celebrate. To feel the power of Love that frees Turns thought away from Christmas trees.